


She's Real Fine (My 409)

by ScottieisStressed (TeheheHoran)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Language, Car Sex, Chapter 3, Fast Cars, Hand Jobs, It's the 60s, M/M, Mechanic Gabriel, Microaggressions, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, R76 Endgame, Racer Jack, Slurs, Songfic, Street Racer Jack, Vincent is a Bad Guy, Young Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Young Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, drag racing, except it's not, listen it's not that bad, no beta we die like men, slight non-con, sorry bout it, the 1960s, the beach boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-23 09:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeheheHoran/pseuds/ScottieisStressed
Summary: As he turns the corner, there was indeed a man messing with his spats, and a younger girl - both Latin-  leaning against the trunk, sipping a coke as she watched.She looks up, eyes widening as she catches sight of Jack and Vincent. She kicks the man in the shin, hissing harshly. “Gabi!”“Aye!” The man exclaims, rubbing his leg and glaring at the girl. She jerks her drink in Jack’s direction.The man looks up at the two of them, still glaring. Jack’s heart stutters.Or, what happens when you mix The Beach Boys with a blossoming Car Guy
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Vincent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Shut Down

**Author's Note:**

> listen,,,,,I promise I'll finish I'm Starving For Your Skin but this came to me while painting, and now I have to get it out before I can do anything else. I don't know car talk and I doubt you do either so let's just pretend that everything I say is law. 
> 
> TW for homophobic slurs used by Vincent and the implication of a racial slur.

The engine purrs beneath him, rattling the windows and making his skin vibrate. The booming rumble of his fellow racers filled his ears, deep ache in the drums painting a maniacal grin on his face. Vincent yells from his right, words drowned out in the noise but the wild look in his eyes said it all. The race was on.

The cars shoot off like bullets, wheels spinning out in their desperate grapple with the pavement, leaving behind hot black streaks. Jack’s thrown back against his seat with the speed, hood of the car raising up into view as the adrenaline courses through his veins. He yawps madly, giddiness overflowing from his body. 

Whipping air stings his face as he rounds the first corner. The steering wheel shakes in his hands as he tenses his arms, holding it steady so the car doesn’t spin out on the gravel. The dust surrounding the car slows his competitors as they shifted gears and fight to see ahead of them. Rocks ping against the body as Jack shifts to fourth, hoping the pull is strong enough to whip him out of the curve and onto the straightaway. Moving to the inside, Jack throws a look back to see Vincent riding his tail. He gives his boyfriend a wink in the rearview, throwing the car into fifth with a jolt. He’s flying, front wheels spinning so fast they hardly touch the ground. The screeching of metal from behind makes him wince. He was definitely dragging his spats. 

Dammit, he hated when Vinny was right about things. He’d have to ask his mechanic about installing a wheelie bar if the man didn’t kill him for fucking up this car first. 

Leaning into the last curve, Jack shifts gears again and shakes off the distractions. He has a race to win.

Vincent is gaining on him quickly, egging in on the inside, trying to push Jack out. 

“Not a chance babe,” Jack mutters to himself, steeling himself as he yanks the wheel to the right, forcing a spin out. Vincent slams the breaks behind him, prepping to crash. At the moment before collision, Jack rights his wheel, snapping back into position as his wheels squeal for purchase. He hoots in delight as Vincent and the other racers fade to dots in his mirror. 

Jack soars over the finish line and lays on the breaks, shifting to the outside and sidling up to his pit. Throwing his head back against the seat he pants like a marathon runner, hands trembling as he unlatches the seatbelt. Sounds of dying engines and chatter surrounded him as the other racers finish, joining him in the pits to shoot the shit and possibly start some fights. 

A shadow casts over his body and Jack opens his eyes, squinting up at the backlit figure. 

“That was a dirty little trick you pulled Jackie.” Vincent is smirking at him, one hand on the windshield and the other behind Jack’s head as he leans over the other man. Jack grins toothily, tongue dipping out to wet his lips. Vincent’s eyes follow it hungrily. 

“Yeah?” Jack breaths out, fading adrenaline making his muscles weak so he goes limp in his seat, melting under Vince’s hot gaze. 

The flash of predatorial teeth sends a shiver through Jack. Vincent leans in to say something, wet mouth opening, the definition of temptation. He’s cut off with an angry shout from the pits. 

“You goddamn reckless bastard! Do you have any idea how much money and time I spent on that shit? Just for you to wreck it on the first race?” Jack winces and rolls his head to look at his fuming mechanic. The man is positively irate, hands on his hips as he crushes his hat in a clenched fist. Jack tries to pacify the man but Vincent beats him to it. 

“Aw c’mon Dennis, don’t be a menace,” the man laughs at his own joke. “It’s no big deal, Jackie boy here will pay ya for the new ones, won’t ya Jackie?” Vincent grabs Jack’s shoulder and gives it a rough shake, his body rocks side to side with it. 

Jack turns his sincere eyes to Denny. “Yeah, I’m really sorry man. I wasn’t thinking about how low the back was not with the new spats. I’ll even pay for a wheelie bar. That should help right?” Jack was never much one for begging but Dennis was the only mechanic Jack had found that was willing to put up with his and Vinny’s combined egos. But even that was on its last leg. 

Denny just shakes his head furiously and throws his hat into the car. Jack flinches out of the way but it still smacks his chest, landing in his lap with a lot more weight than it has a right to have. “No, I’m over it. I quit! I won’t be you and your little boyfriends lackey anymore. I’m done!” Jack tenses at the words. No one knew. No one was supposed to know, they were careful. ‘Too careful,’ Vinny would say when Jack brushed off a quicky after a race, instead giving a promise for later. 

Clearly, they  _ hadn’t _ been careful enough if Dennis knew and was announcing it out to everyone at the track. Vincent bristles next to him, face flushing red with anger. “You fucking wish you faggot! Can’t handle cars for shit, just cause you’re a pansy doesn’t mean you can pin it on someone else when you fuck up!” Vincent shouts back, pushing away from Jack and rounding the car. Denny growls and stalks off, feet pounding the cement as he yells insults over his shoulder. Vincent rolls his shoulders, shaking off the buzz of an impending fight. Faces stare at them from all around. 

“Well?” Vincent calls. “What the hell are you looking at?” The furrow of his brow and social influence made the crowd scatter, the din of conversation rising around them once again. “C’mon,” Vincent growls, stomping over to his own car. “Let’s get out of here.”

-

Two days later Jack is back at the track, signing as he drapes himself over the hood of Vincent’s Dart, watching his boyfriend’s feet tap along to the radio from where they stick out from under the car. He runs a hand through his golden hair, though it was darker where it plastered to his forehead with sweat. Vincent pays him no mind, continuing to whistle along to the song playing through the tinny speakers.

_ Tach it up, tach it up _

_ Buddy going to shut you down _

“Hey, Jack.” The blond looks up to see Ricky standing with his thumb thrown over his shoulder, a confused look on his face.

“What’s up?” Jack rolls off the hood and Vincent slides out from the undercarriage on the creeper, wiping oil on his rag. 

“Did you get a new mechanic already?” Ricky asks, looking over his shoulder in the direction of Jack’s pit.

Jack furrows his brow. “No?” He questions, walking towards the garage door. 

“Well, some dude’s over there messin’ with your spats. Though I’d ask cause usually you liked to sit with Denny while he worked.” Jack frowns and shoots Ricky a quick thanks as he heads towards his pit. 

As he turns the corner, there was indeed a man messing with his spats, and a younger girl - both Latin- leaning against the trunk, sipping a coke as she watched. 

She looks up, eyes widening as she catches sight of Jack and Vincent. She kicks the man in the shin, hissing harshly. “Gabi!” 

“Aye!” The man exclaims, rubbing his leg and glaring at the girl. She jerks her drink in Jack’s direction. 

The man looks up at the two of them, still glaring. Jack’s heart stutters. 

“Isn’t that a girl’s name?” Vincent asks snidely from behind Jack, his left hand resting on Jack’s lower back. The man’s glare intensifies. 

“Gabriel,” he stands from his crouched position, eyes scanning the pair. “Who are you?” 

The other man points to himself, “Vincent,” he slaps a hand on Jack’s shoulder, jarring him. “Jack. That’s his car.” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow.

“Blanquito can’t speak for himself or something?” The girl snorts and tried to cover it by taking a sip of her coke. Vinny’s hand tightens on his shoulder. 

“Listen here bea-,” Jack cuts him off quickly.

“Hey!” He admonishes, knocking his boyfriend’s hand off him and turning to face him. Jack shakes his head firmly, looking Vincent firmly in the eyes. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, looking back at the other pair. “What are you doing with his car?” Vincent demands sternly. 

Gabriel meets Vincent’s challenging eye. “I’m his new mechanic.”


	2. Custom Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some Vincent/Jack smut in this one.

After Vincent storms off muttering about how people are,  _ “Going to pay for this,” _ and the hushed whisper of, “ _ It’s alright babe I’ll fix this,” _ the trio stands awkwardly. The girl looks like this is either the best or worst thing to happen to her, and Gabriel is still delivering a deathly scowl. Jack doesn’t know how he can hold that face for so long without his muscles getting sore. 

Trying to lighten the mood from Vincent’s dramatic exit, Jack puts on his most charming smile. The same smile that got cheerleaders hanging off his arms in highschool and men into his bed in college before he dropped out. “Hey, sorry about Vinny. He can be a bit,” Jack stalls for a lack of a better word. “Uh. An asshole. Vincent can be an asshole,” he sighs, shoulders deflating slightly. “But don’t worry, you won’t lose your job. Not yet at least, gotta show me what you can do first.” The attempted joke falls short, smile sliding off Jack’s face as Gabriel prowls into his space. He paints a very intimidating picture, deep amber eyes shadowed by thick, full brows. Jack can see the formation of lasting indents on his young skin, though he can’t be much older than Jack, 24, maybe. He’s heartbreakingly handsome, broad bridge to his nose that’s practically the epitome of masculine strength. That plump lower lip downturned in displeasure sends a wave of temptation through Jack. Up close Jack can see the curls of his hair have been meticulously gelled into submission to form his gleaming ducktail haircut. His face is framed nicely by a shapely scruff, far from a full beard but just enough that it could leave a  _ beautiful _ red burn on the inside of Jack’s thighs-

Gabriels quickly derails that train of thought. 

“Listen here chico, I’m not one of your little amigos, kay? You race the cars,” a strong and sturdy finger jabs into Jack’s sternum, “I fix 'em up.” Gabriel leans back from where he’s towering over Jack’s frame. “I trust you know how to stay in your own lane?” The question is taunting and mean, delivered with all the hatred Jack isn’t sure he deserves. Jack’s heart does a sinking swoop as he swallows thickly. 

Nonetheless, he steels his face, relinquishing dominance as he looks down and away. “You got it,” Jack affirms, nodding slightly. They can talk logistics when Gabriel doesn’t want to skin him alive. When that may be? Jack isn’t sure. For now, he’s content with ducking out of the pit to escape the other man’s burning gaze. Now he just has to go calm Vincent down and not think about his new mechanic in the shower.

-

Vincent’s breath is hot against Jack’s neck as he squirms beneath his lover. Jack’s skin slides slickly against the leather seats of Vinny’s Dart. They left the windows cracked and top up to avoid the telltale signs of fogged-up windows. The downside is that they have to be extra quiet. Not a problem for Jack, but Vincent’s always been a noisy lay. 

The man lets out a loud grunt as he thrusts up roughly into Jack’s fist. Jack starts to shuh him but it’s smothered into a hum as Vincent covers his lips with his own. He pulls away with a lewd, wet smack. “God Jackie, you feel so good,” Vincent moans, mouthing along Jack’s neck. Jack tightens his grip on Vincent, letting out a small groan of his own as he bucks up, tip sliding against his own knuckles wetly, leaving a rapidly cooling streak of precome. Vincent is busy sucking a hickey onto Jack’s neck when a fist bangs against the trunk, only feet away. Vincent jerks back in shock, causing Jack to hiss at the quick release of suction. His boyfriend’s head peaks up over the seats and he breaks out in a cold sweat. Fear floods his system and quickly flags his erection. He goes to move his hand away from Vince. Maybe if he can get them put together and hide in the floorboards, they won’t get caught. Vincent throws that plan out the window.

“Yeah?” He calls loudly to whoever is outside the car.

“Hey! Looks like- whoa! Vinny,” the voice laughs. “You sly dog!” Vincent grins wolfishly out the window, moving to tighten his own hand over Jack’s. He starts to thrust slowly into their combined grip. Jack stares at him with wide, wild eyes. What the hell does he think he’s doing? 

“Sorry ‘bout that man. She’s a bit shy, doesn’t like to warn people off with sound.” The other man glances down at him, eyes full of debauchery. “Ain’t that right baby?” He punctuates the sentence with a firm thrust. Jack tunes out the rest of the conversation, eyes ringing as his heart jackrabbits against his ribs. His whole body is cold with fear, fingertips going numb as he stares dumbly at the ceiling. 

He’s startled out of his reprieve at the hot splash of Vincent’s come across his chest and stomach. The man is groaning loudly as he mutters words of praise towards Jack. “Goddamn baby, that was good. You’re such a good little slut ‘uh?” He pats Jack’s cheeks harshly like a dog. Vincent tucks himself back into his pants, tucking in his shirt and blowing out a breath as he composes himself. He climbs out of the back seat without about word to Jack, slamming the door and walking away. 

Jack sighs and slams his head back against the seat. He feels dirty, and not just because of the drying come on his skin. Vincent’s been making him feel like way lately. Like he’s only good for sex and driving. A trophy wife to tote around and show off, fuck behind closed doors. And Jack lets him. 

The leather seat pulls at his bare skin harshly as he sits up, the sting making him hiss and rub at the red, tacky skin. He grabs Vincent’s discarded neck scarf from the floor of the car and wipes roughly at his chest, scrubbing to get all the mess off. Tossing it back on the floor, Jack wrestles his inside-out top back on and hopes the collar of his mock neck is tall enough to cover any marks Vincent left. 

He waits a few minutes before sneaking back to his pit, the farther he is from Vincent at the moment, the better. 

He’s surprised to see Gabriel there, under the rear of the car as he holds a flashlight in his teeth. He’s got the Implama jacked up and a mess of tools and boxes scattered around him on the creeper. Jack slows his steps to stare at him, taking in the view of his grease and oil-stained shirt stretched across that broad chest. The shirt has come untucked from his jeans in the front, giving Jack a delicious at his sun-warmed skin. The harsh cut of his hipbones jut up against his skin, drawing Jack’s eyes down, down, down…

Clanging metal on concrete and Gabriel’s swearing breaks his trance. “Me cago en la hostia!” He throws down the flashlight and pushes out from under the car, sitting up and resting his elbows on his bent knees, scrubbing his face. Jack shifts his feet nervously.

“Uhm, do you need help?” Gabriel’s head snaps to look at him, almost like Jack spooked him. He sighs and frowns, gives Jack a once over. Jack stands still for inspection, rubbing the side seam of his pants nervously. 

“Can you hold a flashlight still and stay out of my way?” Jack nods like an enthusiastic little boy. Gabriel’s glower lessens. “Alright, come ‘ere golden boy. Let’s put you to work.”

Jack slides next to Gabriel under the tailgate, shining the light where he’s told and doing his damndest to stay out of the way and in Gabriel’s good graces. The dark-haired man fiddles with the suspension a few other things Jack has no idea what they are. He diligently hands anything that Gabriel requests to him, watching with dawning realization as the amassed pile of bars comes together. “Oh,” he blurts, “These are my wheelie bars.” Gabriel gives him an amused look. 

“Sure got that one quick, huh Sherlock?” Jack pouts at the teasing, hoping the faint blush on his cheeks isn’t noticeable in the shadow of the car.

“I used to watch Denny work sometimes but he didn’t ask me to help, or talk to me really. I never knew what he was doing until it was over and he decided to tell me.” He shrugs, curious eyes scanning the amalgamation of metal that makes up his car. He never really thought about it, just took Denny and the rest of his mechanics for granted. All he was good for was racing and being a pretty face. Jack frowns at the thought. He wonders when he started to believe that was true. Gabriel hums softly, Jack turns to see the other man looking at him. A moment passes before Gabriel turns back to his work. 

“Well, not anymore güero. I’m going to put you to work,” Gabriel says smugly, slotting a bolt into place.

“I don’t know what that means,” Jack complains lightly, crossing his arms and jostling the light. Gabriel’s fingers fumble and he drops the loose bolt on his face. 

“Aye, pendejo!” Gabriel swats him on the head and snatches the flashlight. Jack just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some translations  
> chico - boy/dude  
> amigo - friend  
> Me cago en la hostia - fucking dammit (literally "I shit in the communion waffers"....yeah)  
> guero - whitey/ fair-skinned light-haired  
> pendejo - stupid/idiot
> 
> Gabe's pov next chapter I think


	3. Our Car Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did wheelie bars exist in the 60s? No, nor are they used for anything other than drag racing, which is not the kind of racing Jack typically does. But we will ignore those facts for the sake of the fic.
> 
> TW for slurs (used by Gabriel while talking about himself) and slight non-con (Jack towards Gabriel when he's freaking out)

The race was good one. Jack did good, coming in a close second to Vincent, who beat him by milliseconds. The wheelie bars definitely helped, no more cheating to gain a lead.

“It’s not  _ cheating _ ,” Jack had exasperated. “I am simply using my astute knowledge of racing as a tactical advantage.” Gabriel had to look away from the boy’s blinding grin, looking at Jack was like looking into the sun. 

“Oh yeah? You learn those big words in school Mr. College Drop Out?” Jack had responded by pouncing on his back where he had bent over the open hood to check out the carburetor that was giving Jack problems. 

All in all, Gabriel was proud of his boy. Though he has got to stop thinking of Jack as  _ his boy.  _ Their relationship has progressed from spiteful glares and grumbled statements to something less like trying to push the same sides of a magnet together. Jack is an incredibly tactile person, it rubbed Gabriel the wrong way at first, always had him flinching or stiffening up when the blond would press against his side to take a look at whatever he was doing. He thought Jack read him as soft, that he didn’t respect him and was trying to treat him like he was his bitch. Eventually, he realized Jack was just hungry for genuine attention. Nothing like the attention Vincent or the other guys gave him. Gabriel was more than happy to give it to him, so long as it didn’t get him caught. 

Growing up had been hard enough. He had to toughen up quick, learn to glare and fight his way out of confrontation. The growth spurt and bulking up from working at the junkyard and lifting engine blocks out of cars had helped a lot. No one would call the guy covered in oil and scars a faggot unless they didn’t want to live to see tomorrow.

After graduating from tech school, getting into the local racing scene came with its own set of problems. Growing up in LA, Gabriel  _ knew  _ there were a bunch of rich assholes up in the hills, he just hadn’t met a lot of them yet. He has now though. Especially Vincent. God, why Jack was friends with that dickhead he has no clue. Jack was a sweet ray of sunshine, a little cocky sure, but it seems more like it’s for show than anything else. Uncorrupted by a life of cushy living and having a silver spoon in his mouth, he treats Gabriel like a person, not just a tool, a commodity. Not like the rest of the racers.  _ Wetback _ . He’s heard what they call him. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to his place in the world, but he was still a person dammit, he had feelings. Feelings he maybe would like to share with Jack at some point. Maybe.

The race had ended an hour ago, and most of the crowd has dispersed. Some stubborn racers stay to bitch at their mechanics like  _ they _ weren’t the ones driving the cars when it came down to it. Gabriel’s heading to the parking lot when he sees the lights on in Jack’s pit. As he walks closer, there’s nothing but the sound of crickets filling the early evening air. 

From where he stands, Gabriel can see the Impala is still parked the same way Jack left it after the race. Figuring the man’s probably kicking himself for not winning, Gabriel decides to go cheer him up. 

When he approaches the garage door, he frowns at the lack of another person. Jack wasn’t sitting in the driver's seat, eyes staring off into middle-distance as he took imaginary turns as he was long to do before or after a race.

He’s about to open his mouth and call out for the other man when he hears a grunt and harsh whisper. His hands tighten into fists, shoulders hiking up as he prepares for a fight. Whoever’s bothering Jackie was about to get it.

He rounds the corner quickly, ready to throw a punch but freezes in place at the sight in front of him. 

In the shadow of the work shelf, Jack is pressed face-first into the cinderblock wall. Vincent stands behind him, his forearm pressed against the back of Jack’s neck. Gabriel balks to see Jack’s pants and belt loose around his knees. His shirt is hiked up his back, exposing his freckled skin. From behind, Gabriel can just start to see the dip of his spine and swell of his ass. 

Heart pounding in his chest, Gabriel presses his back to the wall and slowly slides down, crouching behind the car. From here he can just see the pair’s feet and heads, everything else is obscured and he’s very glad of that fact. 

His stomach rolls and he has to swallow back a wave of nausea. Jack’s in pain, his teeth are gritted, exposed by the rough way Vincent has his face pressed into the wall, pulling back his cheek in a way that will no doubt leave a rash. The sounds he makes are punched out of him, more like whimpers of discomfort that he forces to sound pleasurable. Gabriel can just make out the words that Vincent growls into Jack’s ear. 

“C’mon Jackie boy, take it.” Jack gasps raggedly. Vincent smiles devilishly. “Yeah, there you go, take it like the bitch you are.” Gabriel tenses at the harsh words, dread washing over him. Each second that passes by he debates stepping in. That’s a bad idea. Jack would be mortified, probably hate him forever.

“How does it feel to get fucked by a winner baby? Feels good huh?”

Jack’s eyes shoot open and he bites his lip roughly, nose scrunching. “Yeah, yeah it’s good. So good Vinny.” His voice is shot to hell, and Gabriel has a pretty good idea why. 

He’s kicking himself for coming over here. Why couldn’t he have just been a bad friend and gone home? He could be at home in his mama’s warm kitchen, teasing Sombra about her latest summer crush and eating good food. Instead, he now knows what Vincent sounds like when he comes. Cabrón.

Gabriel stays deathly still and holds his breath for the extra measure as Vincent gets himself cleaned up and leaves. It’s just him and Jack. 

Now he’s wondering how the hell he’s going to get out of here without getting caught and why he didn’t leave  _ while they were distracted,  _ _ estúpido.  _

Jack pushes off the wall and reaches behind himself, wincing at the tender touch on his hole. Sighing defeatedly, Jack looks at the mess in his hand and wipes it on the wall. It’s pink.

“Jack.” Gabriel stands from his hiding stop, absolutely fuming. The blond whips around at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, just like he thought, there are scrapes on Jack’s cheekbone from the wall. The terror on Jack’s face makes his heart ache. The blond scrambles to pull his pants up, buttoning them hastily and not bothering with the zipper or belt. 

“Gabriel,” Jack’s face is somehow devoid of color and flaming red all at once. The fear morphs into anger as the blond rushes at him, shoving Gabriel into the side of the Impala. Gabriel is stunned, confused at the reaction, but it reminds him of all the other times guys have tried to fight him. He acts on impulse, catching the wild fist that Jack is swinging towards his face. His form is all off, he’s running on pure adrenaline and fear, trying to put the hurt he’s feeling onto someone else. He gives Jack a quick knee to the gut, it catches the blond off-guard, causing him to fall into Gabriel’s chest. He wraps his arms around Jack’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides. Jack wiggles and thrashes against him. His slim runner’s build doesn’t leave much to grip, making it like trying to hold down a slippery eel. Luckily, Gabriel is strong enough that he can incapacitate Jack with sheer force, it’s hard to run away when you can’t expand your ribs enough to breathe. 

Still, the little bastard kicks at Gabriel’s ankles and knees, the man has half the mind to just pin him to the ground, but he doesn’t want to hurt Jack any more than he already is. “Shhh, Jack, stop kicking me you asshole, I’m trying to help you.”

Jack thrashes once more, giving Gabriel a look that could kill. “Yeah fucking right, let me go,” Jack grits out attempting to punch Gabriel in the dick. 

“God, you’re difficult! Shh, Jack, calm down Conejito. Shhh.” Gabriel shushes him like a scared animal, moving one hand up to pet over Jack’s head. Jack huffs like a bull, nostrils flaring before all the fight drains out of him. He goes limp in Gabriel’s arms, head leaning forward to press against Gabriel’s collarbones. Gabriel lets out a sigh of relief, loosening his hold on the other man as he continues to stroke the back of Jack’s head soothingly. “That’s it, just breathe.” He has to cut himself off before he says something ridiculous like  _ sweet boy _ or anything equally embarrassing and inappropriate. Jack pulls back a little and Gabriel lets him, the blond looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, his lips are full and wet, pink with irritation and  _ Gabriel can’t stop looking. _

He needs to say something, anything, to break the tension, but Jack is just so pretty. Disheveled and pressed hard against Gabriel’s body, blue eyes shadowed and  _ digging _ into the depths of Gabriel’s soul. He wets his lips nervously, scanning Jack’s face for any clue of what to say. 

Then Jack just. Lunges. With his lips. Saliva slick lips slip against his own chapped ones. As his startled sound is smothered in his mouth, he tightens his grip on Jack’s hips, reveling in the way his fingertips dip into the plush flesh. A shaky breath escapes his nose, eyes fluttering shut and he leans back into the kiss. Jack’s lips move against his, they’re so warm and soft. Everything Gabriel wanted them to be and more. He’s so good, sweet, and pliant, hitting all of Gabriel’s buttons. 

Jack pulls away, Gabriel opens his eyes to see a devious grin across the boy’s face. He lets out the breath has was holding, hands loosening and rubbing Jack’s sides. The blond preens and sinks down to his knees. Gabriel looks down confused, his brows meet as his mouth gapes. Jack’s hands move swiftly to his crotch, undoing the button and zipper at record speed. Gabriel is jerked from the car with the force that Jack pulls at his jeans. 

“Whoa!” Gabriel snatches Jack’s wrists up, holding them and those nimble hands away from his body. “Jack, what the hell are you doing?” 

The other man looks crazed, his eyes are wide and dilated, but not from arousal. He gives Gabriel a manic smile, trying again to reach for him. “C’mon Gabriel. I’ll make it real good for you. You can use me whenever you want,” the facade cracks. Jack’s face breaks into something desperate, he lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please, please I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t tell anyone, you can’t tell anyone.” Jack fights weakly against his grip, sinking to the ground as he starts to hyperventilate. Gabriel goes cold, feeling sick to his stomach as he looks at the sad sight at his feet. 

Anger burns bright in his chest, mixing with the cold dread in an unpleasant mixture of feelings. “Jesus Christ Jack, I’m not going to tell anyone! And I’m certainly not going to make you suck me off to shut me up!” He barks at the blond. Jack flinches away, reading his anger as directed at him and not the situation. 

He lets go of Jack gently, fixing his jeans and crouching in front of the other man. He takes Jack’s face in his hands, wiping away the stray tears and taking loud, deep breaths and trying to get Jack to copy him. He does eventually, shaking breaths blowing out and over Gabriel’s face with semi-regularity. Gabriel smiles at him tenderly, rubbing his calloused thumb across the cuts on Jack’s cheek. “There you go Jackie, just keep breathing for me,” he encourages, Jack nods at him with those big wet eyes, looking all the world like a kicked puppy. He stands slowly, pulling Jack up with him, and sets about getting the boy’s clothes looking more put together. He slides an arm around those broad shoulders and ushers him out of the pit, hitting the lights and closing the garage door on the way out. 

“Where are we going?” Jack questions quietly as Gabriel guides them to the mechanic’s parking lot. 

“Home,” Gabriel answers, sticking his key into the passenger door lock and opening the door for him. Jack ducks down and sits gingerly, wincing slightly. Gabriel’s mouth twists into a sour frown. He shuts the door and jogs around the hood, unlocking his door and settling it. He makes sure Jack has his seatbelt on and sticks the keys in the ignition, headlights illuminating the empty lot. 

“Nice car,” Jack comments as they rumble out of the lot. Gabriel lets out a laugh and takes a glance at Jack to see that he’s serious, apparently.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “She’s huge and slow as hell, nothing like that hellcat you drive.” 

Jack rolls his eyes fondly and gives a small smile. “She’s not  _ that _ big, plus, she’s a classic. Who cares if she goes fast.”

“I want to get her murdered out,” he confesses, turning on the blinker at the light. 

“Oh you would,” Jack scoffs, though his smile is growing by the second.

Gabriel’s offended. “What’s wrong with that?” He looks at Jack in light indignation. 

“Nothing!” Jack assures, throwing his hands up in defense. “It’s just so you,” he jeers, laughing and looking out the window. “What’s her name?” 

Gabriel blushes and mumbles his response. Jack looks at him with a shit-eating grin. “What was that now?” Gabriel sighs dramatically and steadfastly avoids Jack’s gaze, trying to keep the scowl on his face, but it slips the more he tries ignoring the other man.

“Reaper,” he finally divulges, turning to witness Jack’s reaction. The blond’s face light up in impish glee, a wicked grin showing off those pearly, perfect teeth. 

Jack throws his head back, “Oh my god!” He cackles, “That’s so you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabriel tries to sound stern but can’t keep the smile out of his tone. 

“Nothing!” Jack hastily assures, reaching over to pat Gabriel’s hand on the gear shift patronizingly. “It’s perfect.” Gabriel’s heart swells at the smile Jack gives him, cheeks heating up as he clears his throat and darts his eyes away. 

“Well, what’s your car’s name?” Jack just shrugs his shoulders and leans back to his side of the car.

“Doesn’t got one.” Gabriel snorts and looks at Jack incredulously. 

“Nah, c’mon I told you mine, you have to tell me yours.” Jack just shakes his head, propping an elbow on the windowsill.

“Seriously, it doesn’t have a name.” Gabriel gapes at him in disbelief.

“You really expect me to believe that you’re one of the top racers in the local circuit and your car  _ doesn’t have a name? _ ” Jack shrugs again. “Half the idiots at the track are so in love with their car and themselves that they treat racing like having sex. I’m pretty sure Vincent makes love to his stupid Dart,” Gabriel finishes with a grumble.

Jack rolls his eyes. “First of all, I’m not one of the best racers at the track. And as for Vincent, well, you’re not entirely wrong,” he sighs and looks out the window, leaning his face against his propped-up hand. “So no, my car doesn’t have a name. No one’s ever bothered to ask me.” Gabriel frowns at the defeated tone in the man’s voice.

“Well, it needs a name. You can’t race without a name. What else are all those companies gonna put on your sponsored stickers?” Jack cracks a smile at that. “What about…” He trails off, looking around for ideas, his eye catches the ornate street numbers on a mailbox. “Seventy-six,” he declares.

Jack shoots him a questioning look. “Seventy-six?”

“Sure, why not,” Gabriel responds with put-upon confidence. “Or  _ setenta y seis _ , since I know how much you love when I speak Spanish,” he leers with a smirk. Jack lets out a bark of laughter, and Gabriel preens to see his cheeks darken. 

“Yeah, sure,” Jack relents softly, looking at Gabriel with an indulgent smile. “We’ll call her 76.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Cabrón - douchebag/fucker  
> Estúpido - stupid/idiot  
> Conejito - little bunny. Gabe is using it to call Jack speedy and finicky. 
> 
> Jack drives a white '62 Chevrolet Impala, Gabriel drives a green 62' Lincoln Continental and Vincent drives a red '62 Dodge Dart. This is set in the summer of 1963 btw. To get something "murdered out" means to black and usually matte it out. Tinted windows, black interior, look it up. It's all very emo Gabe vibes. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos fuel me!


	4. Ballad of Ole' Betsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proof-read this one so let me know if there are any glaring issues

When they park on the street in front of his house, Jack ducks his head and looks out the windows at the surrounding houses. “Are you sure it’s ok that I’m here?” He asks quietly, fiddling with his hands in his lap. Gabriel’s face twists wryly and he checks the street for any people, it’s a quiet summer night. 

“Should be ok, no one stays out after sunset really. Just stay out of the streetlamps and you’ll be fine,” Gabriel replies lowly, getting out of the car and ushering Jack swiftly up the driveway. He’s fiddling with his keys in the security gate lock when the main door is yanked open. His mom is standing there, glaring and tapping her foot as the hall light illuminates the fly-aways of her low bun. He grins bashfully. “Hi, mama.” She opens her mouth to no doubt tell him off, but stops at the sight of Jack, eyes widening.

“Dios mío Gabi!” She exclaims, pushing the security gate open and dragging them both in by the wrists. “Are you crazy mijo? You can’t just bring a gringo to my door in broad daylight!” He rolls his eyes at her histrionics. 

“Mama,” he complains, dragging out the end of the word. “It’s fine, no one was outside, I checked.”

Jack interrupts self-consciously, “I can um, go. If you need me to.”

“No.” They both snap. 

Sombra comes galloping down the stairs, glancing at Jack and continuing on to the kitchen. “Hey Jack,” she greets casually, opening the cabinet to grab a glass. Everyone stares at her. 

“Um, hi?” Jack replies, giving a tiny wave. Why is he so cute? Mama throws her hands up and storms off to the back of the house, muttering to herself. 

“What’s he doing here?” Sombra asks Gabrial as she fills her glass with water from the sink.

Gabriel ignores her. “Jack,” he addresses, “this is Olivia-”

“Sombra,” she interjects.

“My little cousin,” he continues. “She’s staying with us for the summer. She’s also going through a phase where she hates her name.” She rolls her eyes and flicks her hair over her shoulder.

“It’s too girly,” she complains, turning her nose up as she takes a sip from her glass.

“And Sombra isn’t?” Gabriel criticizes. 

Jack perks up and addresses Sombra like a perfect gentleman. “I think it’s nice,” he says with a smile, obviously trying to get on  _ someone’s _ good side. 

Sombra smirks in satisfaction. “Lindo has taste. Puedo ver por qué lo trajiste a casa.”

Gabriel hisses at her with a glare, drawing his thumb across his neck quickly. She laughs. Jack looks confused. Gabriel shakes his head. God this is a disaster. “C’mon.” He grabs Jack and leads him upstairs, depositing him in the bathroom before going to his room to dig through his drawers. He thrusts the stack into Jack’s arms, who just blinks at his owlishly. 

“Take a shower, freshen up a bit. You can change into these clothes.” He shrugs nervously. “Just uh, there are towels, mine actually. And soap so, yeah. Mama made dinner so, just come down when you’re done.” Jack nods with a small smile, starting to close the door. Gabriel takes a step backwards down the hall but Jack yanks the door back open, sticking his head out.

“Gabriel.” Gabriel turns to look at him. “Thank you,” he uttered. Gabriel’s chest felt funny.

“Of course,” he professes. Jack shuts the door and he sags against the wall, blowing out a long breath through his pursed lips. His mom yelled from downstairs. “Coming!” He calls back, making his way down the stairs and into the living room at the front of the house. Mama is sitting in papá’s old chair, legs crossed and looking at him expectantly. He collapses onto the couch and stares down at his lap, avoiding her gaze.

“Gabi,” she starts wistfully.

“I know mama,” he sighs, scrubbing his face roughly. “He just, he’s good, I promise,” he looks at her with imploring eyes. “Someone hurt him mama, real bad. He was bleeding and I couldn’t just  _ leave  _ him there- “

She interrupts him. “Oh, I know Gabi, you’re such a good boy mijo. You just,” she pauses, frowning and looking off as she picks her words carefully. “Have to be careful,” she continues delicately. “With men like him.” The implication is strong and makes a knot form in his throat.

“I will be,” he assures, begging her to leave it alone. She nods in understanding, getting out of the chair and going to the kitchen.

“Well, he’s welcome to stay for dinner. Now go get Olivia and help me set the table.

\- 

They’ve just finished setting the table when Jack appears in the doorway. Mama is fusing over the placemats, straightening them, and adjusting the silverware from where Sombra threw them down. She’s always been a stickler for manners and impressing guests. Gabriel looks up at the shadow Jack cast over the table. He’s going to pass out, melt into a puddle or something, and it has nothing to do with the heat from the kitchen.

Jack is stood there awkwardly, shifting from side to side in his socked feet as he looks at the floor. His hair is damp but fluffy from towel drying, making him look soft and sleep rumpled. Without the addition of his usual product, Gabriel can see he’s towheaded, white-blond fluff sticking up in every direction like a newborn chick. 

A sigh of adoration escapes his chest without his permission. Looking at Jack makes his chest ache in a pain that is so sweet and longing he feels choked up. He feels like he can’t breathe like he’s a tea kettle sitting on a high burner, whistling, screaming, and full of steam. He wants to shake out of his skin he’s so full of emotion for this stupid white boy who just took a  _ shower.  _ Oh god, Jack took a shower. In  _ his  _ shower, with  _ his _ soap. He probably smells like Gabriel. 

That thought almost makes Gabriel choke on his own spit, causing him to cough slightly and clear his throat. Sombra looks at him with a quirked brow. “Hey, Jack,” he greets lamely, already kicking himself for being such a bozo. 

“Hi,” Jack replies. They stare at each other. 

“Jackie!” Mama blurts, gesturing to the empty seat at the head of the table. “Come, come, sit.” Jack steps down into the room, feet whispering as they slide on the vinyl flooring. He walks past the seat mama indicated and instead sits next to Gabriel. Everyone looks at him. 

“Oh,” Jack says blushing, “I was always taught to leave that seat empty for the man of the house, even as a guest. I’m sorry if I offended.” 

Sombra titters, “Gabi is the man of the house.” Jack looks at him in curiosity. 

“Oh?” Gabriel just nods, laying a napkin across his lap and resolutely not looking at the other man. “But dinner looks, great Miss...” Jack trails off, blushing and ducking his head. “Actually, I never asked your last name,” he confesses to Gabriel.

“It’s Reyes,” Gabriel tells him, rubbing the back of his neck with nerves.

“It looks great Mrs. Reyes,” Jack gives that Boy Scout smile of his before leaning into Gabriel a bit. “What is it?” He whispers very quietly. Gabriel fails to hold back his laugh.

“It’s tamales, güero,” he replies easily, Jack’s fumbling and attempts to be polite breaking the weird tension. Jack nods bravely like he knows what that means. “I’ll teach you how to eat them,” Gabriel tells him quietly, feeling smug when Jack gives him an appreciative smile.

When Jack leans over to take the basket of tamales from Sombra, Gabriel catches the strong scent of his soap on Jack. It nearly drives him wild, he wants to bury his face in the blond’s neck and live there forever. He inhales deeply, mouth-watering at the rich, heady smell of Wanamaker pine soap. He imagines Jack under the harsh spray of water, rivets of water sliding down his face, across his lips as he rubbed the bar of soap over his-

“Gabi.” Gabriel startles, blinking at the basket that Jack has apparently been trying to hand him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, taking the warm basket in his hands and plucking tamales from within to set on his plate. His neck burns like he’s stuck his head under the hood of a car fresh off the track.

Once everyone has their food and starts tucking in, Gabriel looks over to check on Jack, who is staring at his plate like the food will jump off and bite him. His pale hands hesitantly move to the tamale, fingers wrapping about the husk and lifting it slightly to his face. He looks over at Gabriel, who fights back a smile as he shakes his head. Jack nods and sets down the tamale again, staring at it like it’s a puzzle to figure out. Gabriel takes pity on him, reaching over and opening the husk. Jack makes a soft and understanding “Oh,” as Gabriel scoops some chili and salsa onto the filling. Gabriel smiles and picks up a bite on Jack’s fork, placing the fork in Jack’s lax hand and curling his hand over the other man’s. Jack’s cheeks start to turn pink and he diverts his eyes down and to the side. Gabriel releases his hand and goes back to his own food, hoping Sombra and mama weren’t paying attention to their interaction. Jack takes a bite and hums happily as he chews, though his face reddens more.

“Oh wow,” he says after swallowing, clearing his throat a bit as he reaches for his glass of water. “This is really good Mrs. Reyes.” Sombra is smiling at her plate.

“Spicy?” She asks innocently, trying to conceal her expression. Jack smiles sheepishly and nods a bit, which gets a chuckle from mama.

“Tamales are usually reserved for holidays or other special occasions, but we are celebrating so I thought why not,” she explains, shrugging and cutting another bite from her food.

Jack’s brows shoot up in surprise. “Oh,” he starts in curiosity, “What are we celebrating.” Gabriel feels light at his use of  _ we _ .

“Why you, dear,” mama says with a smile, tilting her head to him and Gabriel. “In a way. Your first race with Gabriel, Gabriel’s first race with you. Many more to come we hope.”

Jack laughs nervously, “Uhm, thank you? It’s- it’s just a race, I didn’t even win.” He shrugs and stuffs his mouth. Gabriel elbows him lightly and rolls his eyes.

“You lost by less than a second,” Gabriel chastises, fixing him with a disgruntled look. Jack rolls his eyes back and Gabriel has half the mind to cuff the back of his pretty head.

“Oh when Gabi got a job at the track we were so nervous,” mama says wistfully, leaning back to put on her dramatic little show. “I was so scared he was going to get stuck with one of those losers.” Sombra snorts unattractively. “But then he told me all about you, Jack Morrison, one of the best racers he’s ever seen!” Gabriel blushes furiously, Jack’s smile grows deviously.

“Is that so?” He asks teasingly, looking at Gabriel with unconcealed glee.

“Oh yes, though he hated you at first.  _ ‘Mama’  _ he’d say,” she elaborated, making her voice deep and whiney, “ _ El chico blanco esnob es insoportable. _ ”

“ _ Mama _ ,” Gabriel moans, not helping his case at all.

“ _ Señala con sus estúpidos ojos de cachorro a la gente y ellos hacen lo que él dice. Es un beso en el culo, _ ” she continues, paying his no mind as she gesticulates and Jack laughs. “Oh,” she says with realization, “you don’t speak Spanish. He would-“

“He doesn’t need to know!” Gabriel exclaims, wishing he could slap a hand over his mother’s mouth without getting this ear twisted off. He much preferred it when Jack was the one getting embarrassed. Mama finally relents, putting her hands up in defense and turning back to her dinner.

“You’ll have to tell me what he said later,” Jack states to Sombra, still smiling brightly.

“Definitely,” she replies conspiracy. Gabriel groans and bemoans ever bringing the other man home.

-

After dinner, the two are sat on the roof outside Gabriel’s window, overlooking the side yard and the neighbor’s back garden.

“So how come you still live with your mom?” Jack asks, taking a drag off the cigarette they’re passing back and forth. Gabriel plucks it from his fingers before answering.

“Never saw a reason to move out. I was still in college when Papa died, and they won’t Mama own the house by herself so it’s under my name at the bank. Plus she’s getting older, she’s 60 now and could use someone around to do the big manual work. I figure I’ll live here till the day I die.” It’s a bit of a depressing thought.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Jack says quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. “My parents are dead too, in a way I guess.” Gabriel gives him a curious look. “They didn’t want me to go to college, wanted me to stay home and take over the family farm, Said California would be a bad influence.” Jack sounds cross.

“You’re not a native?” Gabriel is surprised, he’s got the tanned, blond surfer look perfected, Gabriel would have thought he spent his whole life here.

Jack shakes his head. “Indiana, I applied to UCLA and got in. Before I left, we had a…falling out. They cut me off and told me to never come home.” Gabriel can read between the lines and deduce what the falling out was about, based on what he witnessed tonight. “I was fine with that, had saved up enough to get there and survive for at least a year, figured I’d get a job, graduate, prove them wrong. That I would become something other than a disappointment, something other than a-,” he cuts himself off, venom and hurt dripping from his words. “But they were right,” he laughs sadly. Gabriel opens his mouth to retort but Jack gives him a scathing look.

“What happened?” Is what he says instead.

“I met Vincent at a party a classmate dragged me to. We talked about racing, which I knew nothing about,” Jack says distantly. “All I knew was that he was pretty, nice to me. Said I had a good car and asked me to come watch him race. I did, god I went to every fucking race, every time he was at the track I was there. Like a little dog in his purse.” Jack snorts humorlessly and shakes his head, taking the cigarette from Gabriel and taking a long, deep drag.

“I was so caught up with Vincent that I failed my classes, got kicked out. I had nowhere to go since I wasn’t allowed at the dorms, so Vincent let me move in with him,” his voice is rough from the sting of nicotine. “I would have graduated in May you know. But here I am, trophy wife for a man I am completely dependent on and I don’t think I even fucking love him anymore.” He breaks, voice cracking on the last sentence and fingers tightening around the cigarette until it crumbles. The gasping breath he takes crackles in his throat wetly, his tears shine in the moonlight. Gabriel’s heart crumples like the cigarette that’s dangerously close to burning Jack’s fingers. He plucks the smoldering object from Jack and stubs it out on the roof, scooting over and wrapping an arm around the blond. Jack collapses into him, tears wetting his shirt for the second time that night.

“Oh, Gabriel,” Jack sobs. “What am I going to do?” Gabriel doesn’t know, but he’ll do everything in his power to make sure that whatever it is, it makes Jack happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Dios mío - my God  
> gringo - outsider  
> mijo - son  
> Lindo - pretty boy  
> Puedo ver por qué lo trajiste a casa - I can see why you brought him home (not that this is not conjugated properly so it's not technically correct but I can't conjugate for shit.)   
> El chico blanco esnob es insoportable. - The snobby white boy is unbearable.   
> Señala con sus estúpidos ojos de cachorro a la gente y ellos hacen lo que él dice. Es un beso en el culo. - He points his stupid puppy eyes at people and they do what he says. He's such a kiss-ass (technically '"it's a kiss on the ass")
> 
> I'm debating re-writing everything and adding more slang so it feels more like the 60s as opposed to writing in this modern way, idk let me know what you all think. I promise things will start looking up for our boys soon.
> 
> comments and kudos fuel me :)


End file.
